Here be Dragons,
by GOMalley
Summary: In which the Doctor and Rose find themselves stranded, then separated in a place that can't exist.
1. Chapter 1

Here be Dragons-Prologue

A string of Galifreyan curses escaped the Doctor, not for the first time that morning, and the wheezing and clanking finally quieted. There was a great shake, and a crash, sending tools and occupants crashing to the floor.

Again.

Then nothing.

"Blast!"

Rose quirked an eyebrow at the Doctor as she picked herself up off the floor.

The doctor gave her his best "Nothing to see here, move along now" smile.

"It seems we've had a bit of mechanical trouble. Nothing to worry about, but we'll need to land here for a bit while I sort the old girl out."

He grinned and gave the TARDIS a loving little pat on the console, than began digging about under a floor panel for bits.

Rose sighed.

"Alright then, where's here?"

"Haven't a clue" said the feet now sticking out from under the console.

Having by now learned the basics, Rose could see from the display panel on the console, that the atmosphere outside was breathable, and temperature was mild.

She stood and stared at the feet for a few minutes more, and they muttered a few more curses. Some she recognized, some she didn't.

"Right then."

Rose grabbed her hoodie off the hat rack in the corner. She couldn't be expected to just stand here and stare at a pair of feet. If the number of bits scattered about on the floor were any indication, she'd at least have time to take a walk.

Outside, she took in the view.

Gravel crunched under her feet, and the dry desert air whipped her hair into her face. Absently she tied a ponytail around itself and pulled the knot tight. Judging from the deepening light, it was around sunset, wherever they were. Checking to make sure she had her TARDIS key in her pocket, Rose began to walk. Overhead, something circled, unnoticed.

It was almost full dark when Rose stumbled across the first chasm. Stumbled was not exactly the correct term. In the growing dusk it had looked like no more than a shadow on the ground. "Fell into" was a lot more correct. One minute she had bent to examine a small lizard-like creature sitting on a rock. It was no larger than her finger, and a warm rust colour.

"Aren't you cute." She said to no one in particular, bending down for a closer look. At that very moment the creature did something that looked for all the world like a hiccup, and a little jet of flame shot from its mouth. The smell of sulpher was unmistakable. Unhurt, but startled, Rose jumped back.

Into nothing.

Having found herself the better part of 6 yards down in a very narrow and very long crack in the earth, with one foot on a shelf of rock in front of her, and the other stretching into nothingness under her, Rose clung to the cave walls for dear life. Looking over her shoulder, she saw only blackness below, and sky above. Beneath her, she could here the sound of gravel, disturbed by her fall still ricocheting off the walls far below.

With strength she hadn't realized she even possessed, she dug in her fingernails, and feeling as if all of her weight were on her fingers, managed the twist and pull and haul herself forward onto the ledge in front of her. Fingers bleeding, and shoulders screaming from the effort. Rose took stock. Maybe four feet across at its widest point, the chasm walls were a sheer drop. There was no rubble to climb and no handholds to pull herself out on. Forced to guess in the almost complete darkness, Rose would have estimated she was about 16 feet below the top lip of the crevice. Damn. Even for a gymnast there would be no climbing out from here. She wasn't certain she could anyway. Her arms felt like lead.

"Nice going, shopgirl" Rose muttered to herself, as she took stock.

Then she did what any sensible human being would do in the same situation.

Screamed for help.

And screamed.

And screamed.

It got darker. Rose could clearly see stars overhead now, but little light made it down into the crevice. None actually. She couldn't see her hand in front of her face. She checked. Knowing that inside the TARDIS wrapped up in what he'd called "the subtle science of jiggery pokery" the Doctor would be utterly preoccupied for hours, perhaps days even, and totally unable to hear her now that she was hoarse from trying. Rose pondered a moment, then reached out her hand and touched cool rock. Carefully feeling her way along the wall, and checking each step as she went to ensure there was earth underfoot, she began to pick her way along the path that stretched before her, invisible save for the slash of night sky overhead. Now and again, she would hear another hiccup, and there would be a brief spark in the darkness. She tried not to think about lizards.


	2. Chapter 2

One

A slew of sparks led to a spew of alien epithets, with a few choice human ones, in several languages, just for good measure. Something popped loudly, startling the Doctor, and he sat up suddenly, half braining himself on the underside of the console as he did so. On impact, the sparking suddenly stopped, and a smooth B flat hum began emanating once again.

He shot the console a baleful look.

"Fine friend you are." He grumbled, rubbing the knot on his head.

He looked around. The interior of the TARDIS looked as though a toolshed had thrown up in it. Hastily stowing the worst of the clutter under a hatch in the floor, the Doctor fished out his faithful sonic screwdriver. He absently scanned the displays in the console as he did so, muttering about the fickleness of humans and machines alike. Something caught his eye.

"What do you mean you don't know where we are?" He asked the entire room in general. He stabbed peevishly at a bank of buttons. "Or when?"

Stab. Stab.

The Doctor grew wide-eyed as he stared at his display, mind working furiously to assimilate the impossible. They were nowhere. And everywhere. Off the map as it were.

"Here be Dragons…." Muttered a sarcastic voice in his head.

If the console was correct the fabric of time and space was almost impossibly thin in this place.

Make that places.

The console showed it almost like an intersection in the middle of nowhere with many roads branching off in all directions. They all intersected at this spot, but floated freely, connected to nothing at this point but each other. A time and place, in between time and places. Impossible!

With a life that has spanned centuries, time passes very slowly for a Time Lord. It seemed like only a few minutes he'd been tinkering with the TARDIS, but as he stood puzzling over the display, another thought pricked at the edge of the Doctor's awareness, for the first time in over 14 hours.

Bloody Hell!

"Rose!"

Upsetting the hat stand in his haste, the Doctor grabbed a beat up leather jacket that had been slouching under it and shrugged it on as he charged out the door, tucking his sonic screwdriver into some hidden inner pocket.

"Rose!"

It was night still, with the first hint of gray dawn illuminating just enough of the distant horizon for the Doctor to discern between land and sky. Fading, but still visible overhead, a sky full of unfamiliar stars stared down. Unseen, here and there, one would wink out, only to reappear a second later when that which had come between land and sky glided soundlessly on.

"Rose!"

The Doctor stood silently, listening for any hint of a response.

Silence.

Silently chastising himself for his single-mindedness, the Doctor locked the door behind him angrily shoving the key into the pocket of his well-worn black trousers. The lightening sky revealed a bleak expanse of flat mesa, with occasional odd, orange coloured rock formations jutting skyward to great heights, like long bony fingers pointing heavenwards from the ground. Here and there a little cluster of rocks huddled together, as if for safety. In the distance, orange cliffs loomed. Except for a few short, spiny bushes and the odd patch of silvery sedge grass, the landscape was devoid of vegetation. Just barely dawn, and already he could feel heat creeping into the day, battling with the last of the coolness of the desert night.

As he stepped, a tiny lizard darted to safety under a rock. Unseen by the Doctor, it coughed a little spark of flame, then disappeared down a hole.

The growing light revealed one single footprint in the windswept dust. Rose's Etnies runners had gone towards the cliffs, presumably with Rose in them. The Doctor winced, and berated himself again. Judging from the direction the sun was rising in, Rose had followed the sunset. Something that felt irritatingly like panic fluttered in him. She'd been out here all night.

Mentally kicking himself, and scanning every direction for any trace of her, the Doctor set out.

"Rose!"


	3. Chapter 3

Two

Rose had no idea how or when it was that she had finally fallen asleep. She had walked, picking her way along in darkness for what had felt like days. As the adrenaline rush from the fall had begun to fade, she had begun to notice dozens of little hurts. Though she couldn't remember doing it, she was reasonably certain now that she must have bounced off the walls of the fissure a few times before landing in the awkward position she had found herself in. A large knot had formed on her forehead. She suspected she had probably looked better.

The more she'd walked, the more she'd begun to ache. She couldn't help the feeling that she'd walked half the length of the world by now, and would eventually end up right back where she'd started. Stopping for what she'd promised herself would be just a moment to catch her breath; she'd huddled against the cavern wall, resting her back against cool rock. She pulled her knees up, and, shoulders screaming had laid her head down on her arms in front of her.

That was how they'd found her.

As the haze of sleep slowly retreated, She became aware of two voices arguing in heated whispers. Someone called Lorcan was certain she was a spy. For whom she had no idea. He was arguing with a man named Aigon when she first realized she'd been sleeping. She didn't move. Hoping they'd just assume her dead and leave her alone. She sat unmoving, listening. It had, she supposed, been too much to hope they'd have ended up somewhere safe and peaceful.

"How did she get here, Aigon, we're half a day from the nearest stair, and all the stairs are manned! Even if she'd climbed down yesterday, the patrols would have seen her coming! No, he has to have put her here."

The other man, Aigon, laughed.

"Looks like he dropped her a couple of times first then. Think sense, man. Why send an outsider in like this. He knows we're not that stupid! You've been listening to that idiot cousin of yours too much lately. He wants you to be afraid you know."

"If you had any sense, you'd be just as cautious. Broccan is a fool to just sit here and wait for him to come to us. We're too few as it is now, with more being taken all the time! Those he doesn't kill outright end up in the mines, and Daigh knows what lurks down there!"

Rose had heard enough to be certain no one was going to kill her immediately.

"Not a spy."

She frowned at how loud her own voice seemed in her aching head.

"No one put me here, I fell." She gazed up from the ground at the two men arguing before her.

Rose stood. Every muscle ached from the combination of the fall, and the time spent sleeping against the rock wall of the chasm. She looked around. It was light now. Looking skyward she found that her impression of going downhill had been quite correct. She estimated the top of the rock walls to be at least thirty feet above her now. The sky was full daylight now, though the depth of the chasm kept them in shadow.

Two men stood before her. One was a big bear with a full red beard that matched the wild tangle of copper curls on his head, and round face. Not quite middle aged, Rose mused, but he could certainly see it from where he was standing. The other was just as tall, but wiry, and the one day growth on his face suggested that he was usually clean shaved. At a guess Rose would have put him in his late twenties. Both wore the same kind of dark trousers and work boots. Except that their loose fitting, long sleeved shirts didn't match, although the both looked to be some sort of cotton, Rose would have thought it was a uniform. They were both armed with the same sort of pistol, though with limited experience with such things, she couldn't begin to guess the specific nature of the weapons. The knife each man wore in his belt was less ambiguous. Knives she recognized. All these thoughts passed in the space of a few seconds after she had stood, and now began to swim together. The combination of the knot on her head, fatigue, hunger, and having stood up too quickly all hit her at once. She would never remember fainting. Though later, it would disgust her to no end that she had.

The Doctor walked towards the jutting orange cliffs, still scanning in every direction for any sign of Rose.

"Rose!" He called.

His echo answered him.

Nothing moved.

The sun was getting higher in the sky. Anything alive had already retreated to the shade for the day. The blazing sun was relentless; the back of his jacket felt like it was on fire. Choosing instead to carry it, the Doctor slung the battered leather over one shoulder. In his shirt sleeves, he made for the shade of the nearest of the rocky spires. Surely Rose would have the sense to do the same. It always struck him as wonderful that such a fragile species had managed to survive at such length in such a hostile universe. Vulnerable even to something as simple as sunlight, it seemed to him at times that the human race survived at times sustained by nothing more than sheer force of will. It was one of the things he liked about them. He pushed concerns like sunburn and dehydration out of his mind for now. Rose was a very sensible example of her tenacious species. She would take care of herself.

Now that he was upon it, the rock formation was much larger at its base than it had seemed. It stretched unknown hundreds of feet into the air, and as big around at the base as Rose's apartment building (not worrying yet) had been. Strewn around the soaring rock face, as if tossed there by some great, unseen hand, large rocks clustered together. Something similar to granite, if he guessed correctly. Here out of the sun, it had an almost pink cast to it. Noticeably cooler as he stepped into the shade, the air was still punishingly dry. He looked around for any sign of water. Not for his own sake, but because if Rose was out here, he knew she'd do the same. A cluster or boulders about 20 feet away looked promising. Surrounded by the strange silvery sedge grass that seemed native to this place, a few of the squat prickly bushes stood like sentries before them, looking just a little greener than the ones he had first seen. As with the flora on many planets, the Doctor assumed that green meant water close by. Photosynthesis was a process remarkably similar throughout the universe.

The sound of voices drove all thoughts of water from his mind at the next instant. Peering behind the largest of the boulders, the Doctor spotted the crack in the earth. Not more than six feet wide, and deeper than he could see from this angle, the voices were distorted, echoing up the wall from an unknown depth below. Creeping cautiously around for a better vantage point, the Doctor failed to notice the guard until it was too late. Something poked him sharply in the shoulder. He turned to see a man of about 40 leveling some sort of pistol at his chest. He raised his hands and smiled.

"Hello."

The man with the pistol registered surprise, but did not respond. Keeping his hands visible, the doctor leaned back against the rock, and tried to affect what he hoped was a relaxed, non-threatening pose.

"Sivna! Seersha!" Called the man with the pistol. "Intruder! Look sharp!"

The Doctor turned to see two more men appear from behind the rocks. Both had pistols drawn. True to form, he smiled broadly.

"I'm looking for my companion, The Doctor said easily, carefully keeping his tone light. Young woman, blond hair, likely saying horrid things about me, I'm the Doctor by the way."


	4. Chapter 4

Three

Even Lorcan had to admit it was highly unlikely that a spy would have arrived in this state. It had seemed especially un-spylike to faint. Reflexes overrode reason, and he caught the girl before she hit the ground. She remained slumped against him. Up close she looked younger than he had guessed. He had thought her to be the same age as Aigon. Looking at the girl in his arms now, he guessed her to be closer in age to Brenna.

His daughter.

Brenna. Over three seasons had passed now since she'd been taken from him. His beautiful Brenna. Thinking of her, her merry blue eyes and strawberry hair, and that little line between her eyebrows when she scolded him…how much like her mother she looked. His throat grew tight thinking of where Brenna might be now.

If she yet lived.

Lorcan was a good man at heart. Anger gone now, he gently hefted the girl in his arms and turned to the young man who was studying him now. Aigon met his eyes. No more need be said. They were few enough as it was. No matter where she'd come from, the girl was here. They might need her. Another thought struck him. She looked battered enough. He saw the same thought in Lorcan's eyes as the man stared grimly ahead. If this girl had somehow escaped from the mines, then there might be hope for the others.

He gathered the canteens and day rations from where Lorcan had dropped them when the girl had fallen at his feet. They started for home.

The Doctor was losing his patience.

Once he had explained to the guards that he was not, in fact a spy, and allowed them to search him for weapons or beacons of any sort they seemed to be at a loss as to what to do about him. They'd taken the sonic screwdriver for further examination, but seemed to be satisfied for the time being that he didn't present any immediate threat. So it was largely by mutual agreement that they had escorted him here, to the council chamber. They brought him before a long table that apparently served multiple functions. A large man with dark hair and cruel, beady little eyes looked up at him with undisguised malice as the guards dropped his jacket, and the contents of his pockets onto the table in front of them.

He'd been impressed at what he'd seen when they'd escorted him down the narrow stone stairs into the cavern. Considerably wider at this level than at the surface several caves and paths diverged here below the surface. The rock walls he had taken from the surface to be sheer granite were riddled with caverns. Homes. Skinny, ragged children darted in and out. Too small for their species, the Doctor was certain. In spite of the hunger and hardship he could see on every one of their faces, they still shrieked and laughed as they ran. He had smiled a little, in spite of himself. In spite of what Rose may have thought, he liked children. In fact, there had been a time…

His mind clamped down on the thought before he'd even completed it. At that moment a ringing blow to his face left his head singing, jarring his attention back to the present. Two silent guards held him upright, arms pinned painfully behind his back. Rough hands gripping his jaw forced his head up. He regarded the man behind the table coldly. He hadn't heard whatever question the man behind the table had barked at him.

"I could have you killed right here!" Said the big, red-faced man sitting behind the table rifling through the Doctor's assembled belongings.

"I told you!" said the Doctor for the third time. "I'm a traveler, that's all."

The angry giant banged his fist on the table and stood up, advancing on the Doctor.

"We don't take kindly to spies here in the settlement!" He spat, grabbing a fistful of the Doctor's collar.

"Tristan, that's enough." The Doctor couldn't see whom the voice belonged to.

The man's face turned purple with rage. Resisting the urge to drop this man where he stood, the Doctor waited.

"Broccan, he's lying! Look at him! Kill him now before he tells the Citadel where we are!" The hint of a whine in the big man's voice gave him the tone of an angry schoolyard bully.

"Tristan, I won't tell you again. Stand down." The voice from the shadows was like a brick wrapped in a pillow. Soft, but unyeilding.

The Doctor understood there was some sort of crisis unfolding here, but couldn't concern himself with that overmuch. He had a much more pressing concern.

If his estimation of the time were correct, Rose had been out in the desert, alone, for close to twenty hours now. He'd walked for nearly five hours before he'd run into this lot. He had a pretty fair idea of how much water Rose would have found on her own. Even if she had found water, there was no guarantee that it would be safe for her. This was, after all, another world.

That part still nagged at him. Technically, if the information the TARDIS had reluctantly given him was correct, this wasn't ONE other world. It was hundreds of them. Or rather, PIECES of hundreds of them. Patched together like a quilt. From all different worlds and times. How it had been done, and how it was being held together were a complete mystery to him. He couldn't BEGIN to fathom the WHY aspect of the equation.

Much less the "who".

He raised his eyes as a small man stepped from the shadows near the entrance, and into the large part of the cavern they were now standing in. They regarded each other carefully.

"Sit." Said the man, kindly, gesturing to the table Tristan had just vacated.

The small man gestured for the others to stand down. Obviously he was a person of some importance. The others moved off towards the wall, and stood talking amongst themselves. The one he'd called Tristan stalked angrily from the cavern. Somewhere a radio squawked something he couldn't quite make out at this distance. Two of the guards ran out of the cavern.

"Drink." The old man placed a canteen in front of him.

"It's only water." He said, in response to the Doctor's hesitation. As if to prove it, he lifted the canteen to his lips and drank first. Satisfied, the Doctor drank. He wondered if Rose had been as lucky.

Pinning the man with an intense gaze that somehow conveyed more urgency than his words had been able to do, the Doctor explained again.

It had taken less than an hour to convince the man that he was who'd said he was. Broccan's people were not primitives. While still in its infancy, on their own world they'd attained space travel. Time travel was, at least, in theory, something he could conceive of. It also offered an explanation for how they had come to be here. An entire province, albeit a remote one, lifted out of time and space, and plunked…here. Wherever here was. There were several who still believed that they were on Danna yet. That some terrible fate had befallen their world and their little desert province was all that was left recognizable. Tristan and his little band of thugs were among them. Broccan knew better. He'd known from the day the shift had happened. Almost a hundred seasons ago now. He'd felt the "otherness" of it from the very first.

This tall stranger had been trapped here as well. Drawn here by some force neither of them understood, and stuck here, with his little blue box, like a fly in a web. And somewhere out in the blistering desert heat, a girl was stranded too. On the surface, in plain sight of the things that searched from the sky. He'd explained about those things to the Doctor, and watched as the colour had drained out of the man's face. He'd shot to his feet like his seat was on fire. Broccan thought he'd understood. So many here had lost loved ones to the winged guardians, and, ultimately the mines. To be on the surface during daylight hours one risked much more than sunstroke or dehydration. There was no time to spare. A second wasted could condemn another innocent to life, and eventual death, in the mines below the citadel.

Broccan had assigned a detail of 6 men to the Doctor, and returned his sonic device. The Doctor had clapped his shoulder in thanks, all efficient commander now. Obviously a man accustomed to managing a crisis. The stranger in black had seen battles before. Broccan was certain of it. Only his eyes and a small twitch in the muscle along his jaw gave any hint of how frantic he was to find his companion. Broccan knew the feeling too well.

"Stay below the surface or under the spires until after dark." He instructed the Doctor's retreating back.

Broccan muttered a quick prayer to Daigh, and then set off in search of a messenger. He would gather the council tonight to discuss these new events. The Doctor's arrival shed some new light on things. And with new knowledge, came something else he had not seen in a long time. Something he'd hardly recognized in himself.

Hope.


	5. Chapter 5

Four

It would be almost twilight before the advance scout for the Doctor's party found them.

Rose had begun to stir in the very late afternoon, and rather than quick march her all the way back to the main settlement and the council in the condition she was in, Lorcan had called a halt. Half exhausted himself from carrying her in the heat of the daytime, though not a man who would complain of such things, he lowered her gently to the ground, then sunk down beside her. It might be cooler here below the surface, but the dry heat of the Outlands in daylight reached them even here.

Aigon was there, immediately with water for both.

"Good morning." He smiled slightly as Rose's eyes fluttered open.

Her time with the Doctor had made Rose quick on her feet. More than once since joining him, it had been no more than luck and quick reflexes that had kept her alive. She was already scanning the area for a rock to throw when Aigon had spoken.

"Easy Miss. No one's going to hurt you." It suddenly occurred to Aigon that she did not look like one of the Dann. She was short for an adult, at least for a Dann adult. Her face was young enough, but still, not a child any longer. One look at her eyes had told him that. As battered as she looked, Daigh only knew what she'd been through. He hoped they hadn't just compounded whatever it was by scaring her half to death on top of it.

That worry was dispelled in the next second.

"Who the hell are you?" She demanded, grabbing a fist sized rock from the ground beside her.

Lorcan chuckled from his place on the ground beside her. Rose spun around, causing little stars to swim in the air around her.

"And you?"

Aigon saw all of the colour drain out of her face again, in spite of her attempt to be menacing. He was quick on his feet, and reached out to steady her as she began to sway. Reflexes equally matched, he deftly caught the hand with the rock in it before it could connect with his head, using his other hand to support her under her arm as the ground seemed to angle away from her and she struggled to stand.

He helped her to sit again.

"You really shouldn't stand up so quickly." He said, trying to sound as if strange women falling at his feet were an everyday occurance in this God forsaken place.

"You wouldn't want to faint again." Lorcan is exhausted from carrying you. He handed her a canteen of water.

Faint? She hadn't…Had she?

"I never…" she began to protest, as she turned to see Lorcan massaging exhausted shoulders.

Rose flamed at the thought of the other man carrying her unconscious for…how far? Where was she? How far away from the TARDIS had they taken her? Had the Doctor even noticed her absence yet?

She drank deeply, feeling colour return to her cheeks. She was starving, dizzy and confused. As if reading her mind, Aigon handed her some sort of biscuit, then sat on his heels and studied her while she tasted it. Sweet, bland and dry, it was inoffensive and definitely edible. No worse than some of her mother's concoctions back home. She mumbled a quick "Thank you." And finished it in three bites.

Beside her, Lorcan harrumphed something she couldn't understand and hauled himself up to rummage through the packs Aigon had been carrying. He appeared to be making camp.

"Any better?" The younger one spoke again. Rose turned back to the gray eyes that were still studying her intently.

"Yes, erm, thank you." She drank again then handed him back his canteen.

"I'm Rose Tyler. Who are you? Where are we?"

"My name is Aigon. This is Lorcan." He indicated the big man who was pulling rough blankets out of their packs now, and piling them next to a stack of small metal stakes. The rough looking man paused, turning toward her. He bowed slightly, and touched his forehead, as if doffing an imaginary hat.

"Miss." He said, simply, before returning to the task at hand. Rose thought he seemed sad. Very different from the angry man that had stood before her, insisting she must be a spy. She supposed after carrying her unconscious carcass for who knew how far, that if he really had meant her any serious harm, it would have been done by now. She turned back to Aigon. He was speaking softly in the deepening twilight.

"We're Riftrunners. We patrol the crevices in the Outlands during the day. The Outland rifts run close to the surface, and they're vulnerable to intruders. The Riftrunners give the rest of the Settlement advance warning of intruders from the Citadel, or the sky." He stopped. From her frown it was clear she had no idea what he was talking about.

"How is it, Rose Tyler, that you came to be asleep in one of the Outland Rifts, in the middle of nowhere between the Settlement and the Citadel, and you have no idea where you are, or what's happening around you?"

"I just fell into it…" She struggled with how much to tell him, wincing as she grazed the knot on her head while trying to shove the hair out of her eyes. She retied the knot at the back of her hair and fixed him in a steady gaze. She stuck out her chin, and took a deep breath.

With no idea where she was, where the TARDIS and presumably the Doctor were, and no idea how to get back there anyway, Rose made a decision. She began to talk. Aigon listened patiently. Ocaisionally he would hand her a canteen, or some other small morsel from their packs as he did so, interrupting only rarely to ask questions. Listening too, his face grim, Lorcan moved around them, setting up camp. He drove the small metal spikes into the rock walls of the crevice, on both sides, and Rose noticed that each of them had a small hook on the end. She watched fascinated as he attached what looked like a black canvas sheet to the hooks, making a small shelter. He wandered off for a bit, as she continued to explain to Aigon about travelling in the TARDIS. He scowled a little when she explained about them being stuck here, and how she had decided to go for a walk while the Doctor tinkered.

"You were on the surface, in daylight?" He asked incredulously.

"Um, yeah." She paused, suddenly feeling foolish. "That a bad thing?"

He shook his head in wonder at this seemingly fearless little woman in front of him. She was either incredibly brave, or incredibly stupid, and he couldn't decide which.

Lorcan returned. Under the black screen, he lit what looked to Rose, like a small oil lamp. From his pack, he produced a small stove of some sort. He poured water from a canteen into a pot and placed it over the small green flame. Rose saw that he had some sort of small dead animal with him now. She studied the black screen instead.

The older man saw Rose, looking curiously at the blackout shelter.

"To hide the light, miss." He said in response to the question she hadn't asked. "From the ones in the sky. Rifts are deeper here than where we found you, true miss, but They circle high, and They can see a flame once they get right overhead. You'd best bring her under cover, Aigon. No telling what else will be wandering the Outlands when strange things start happening."

"You're lucky you weren't killed, Rose Tyler." He regarded her seriously, as he helped her to stand. He kept one arm under hers and walked her slowly over to where Lorcan crouched, stirring a small pot. She might be feeling better, but she was still shaking. He wondered if she was aware of the deepening bruises on her arms and face, or the dried blood in her hair around the obvious bump on her head. He suspected not. She let him help her to sit on the blanket that Lorcan had nodded toward, spread out near one wall of the rift, under the screen.

He turned to regard her again, in the fading light.

It was his turn to talk.

The afternoon took days to pass. Marching through the endless labyrinth of the Rifts, it became impossible for a newcomer to keep track of direction and distance. Even the periodic stops beneath the spires where the stairs, ever guarded, were concealed from searching eyes above, allowing them up to the surface level to scan the Mesa, did little to give the Doctor any real sense of location. While lit from overhead, the Rifts were deeper here than they had been where he'd entered them. The sun was not directly visible, and everything fell in shadow so that it was impossible to discern time of day even from the length of the shadows.

Shadows.

In the churning machine that was the Doctor's mind, something was working very hard to make him think of it. Like an apparition from some child's tale, the harder he tried to focus on whatever the thought was that wanted him to think it so badly, the faster it flittered away from him, only to be caught again from the corner of the mind's eye, yet ever refusing direct examination. It left him with a disturbing sense of Déjà vu.

Déjà vu was never a good thing for a Time Lord.

With each passing step he worried about Rose. True, she was short sighted and capricious, but considering how very brief the human life span was, he had never begrudged her that. Hell, he admired it. Rose just kind of INHALED life. It was why he had chosen her. Right from the first she'd had so much potential. Her empathy and her humanity were her greatest treasures, whether she knew it or not. Rose lived life with the intensity of someone who knew she couldn't live forever, and was determined to pack as much into every minute as she could.

She wasn't like him. Someone who'd outlived his own planet. His own timeline should have ended. Should have winked out all together, along with everything he'd ever affected. Since the Time Wars had ended he'd been alone in uncharted waters. He still didn't know why his own timeline continued when all the others had been erased. He was a puzzle even to himself. Whatever life was left to him was not on any map. Here be Dragons. With no time and place to call home, he'd been drifting aimlessly in the universe, looking for some clue, any hint as to why he'd been spared, when he'd stumbled across her.

Rose Tyler wore her humanity, on her sleeve. To this day she threw it in his face without even realizing she was doing it. She had disarmed him from the start. Brandishing her mortality at him like a weapon. She reveled in it. It was her wide eyed fascination and unabashed joy with the sheer magnitude of time and space that had shaken him awake again for the first time since he'd found himself alone and grieving for several million souls who had never been. For someone who by her very nature would have very few days to live, relative to him at least, Rose had been astonishingly generous with them, offering the few she would have to his company without a moment's hesitation. It left him feeling awestruck and small. He could think of no greater gift. He'd always tried to afford that gift the respect it deserved by showing her amazing things. Expanding her horizons.

In spite of her generosity with her life, he had also never known her to be deliberately careless with it either. He hadn't worried overmuch about his preoccupation with fixing the TARDIS because he had already known he could trust her to look out for herself, and not do anything actually foolhardy or dangerous.

Like vanish without a trace.

No one saw the muscle in his jaw twitch.

The senior guard in his party was a man named Calbhach. Balding, and leather faced from sun exposure, he had been amiable enough, and chatted AT the Doctor at length about his people.

The Dann were what they called themselves now. At one time they might have referred to themselves by other names. Perhaps regional tribe names, or city names or even family names. Here in this place, however, they were only one people. Their homeworld was Danna. How they had come to be in this place was slowly becoming the stuff of legend, and the Doctor was hard pressed to discern fact from fiction.

Slowly, disturbingly, pieces began to mesh together to form an even greater puzzle.

No one was exactly sure when the shift had taken place. There were few enough of them, and it was a big area, the Outlands. Even when it had still been on Danna, very few had actually lived there. Those who were here now were far more likely to have had the simple misfortune of travelling through the Outlands when the shift happened. Rich and poor alike had been stranded here to live and die on equal footing. Some of the older ones claimed they had known at once that something had changed. Most of the Dann who survived now had been only children at the time, and memories surrounding the shift were confused and incomplete. Almost all had been travelling through the Outlands with parents to different destinations when the entire territory had been picked up, right off the face of Danna and dropped here.

Wherever here was.

"Whenever" His mind whispered.

The story matched Broccan's explanation well enough. Though it had begun to take on the air of a creation myth, the Doctor suspected it was the truth, as much as these people were able to understand it to be.

Some had wandered for weeks before finding others of their own kind. Many had been taken almost at once. Carried off by winged creatures from the skies. The Guardians, as the Dann had named them, had been selective at that time. Taking only adults. Leaving the children and the elderly to form a rag tag nation on their own.

Winged creatures from the sky.

Reapers.

The word echoed in his mind like a gunshot. He felt ill.

A piece of the puzzle clunked into place.

Rose.

In the early days a few had escaped the mines. Returning through the maze of crevices that the Dann had claimed as their only protection from the creatures above.

They brought with them horror stories of the mines beyond the Citadel. Forced to work in the dark pits, miles below the surface, extracting the ore by hand. None of them knew it's purpose. Over time, many developed caustic burns from touching it. Some sickened and died. From the few survivors who had escaped in those early days they had also learned that they were not the only people to have arrived here in this place in this manner. Dozens of different species of beings worked and died in the mines beyond the Citadel. They were from more different planets than most of them had known to exist. Their home worlds had been in all stages in development. Some talked of space travel. Some spoke of inventing glass with the same enthusiasm. It was known that even the Overseers, the giant men whose faces none had seen and lived, had arrived in much the same way. They had simply arrived earlier than the others, finding themselves higher up on the food chain only by accident.

One of the Riftunners, the men who patrolled the rifts around the perimeter of the territory the remaining Dann now inhabited, was rumoured to have seen the lands that bordered the Outlands. The man, Lorcan, had been in his early twenties when the shift had happened. Almost at once his wife had been taken by the Guardians. She hadn't even screamed when the sharp talons of the Guardians had bitten into her back. Her last word to him as she had thrust the baby girl she'd been carrying into his arms had simply been "Run."

The man, Lorcan, they said, had done just that, looking back only after he'd sheltered the terrified child in the closest of the rifts. According to Calbhach, the child, Brenna, had been raised by the Dann as a whole. Lorcan having spent the better part of fifty seasons searching for his wife. After a time, the Dann had begun to make maps based on Lorcan's reports. A few other brave souls had followed in his footsteps, intending to expand on his findings. The problem was that the landscape kept changing. Impossible as it seemed, the land was growing. On one visit, the Outlands bordered on a jungle. On the next visit, a vast ocean would appear only to be replaced by rolling grassland the next. Frustrated and frightened, and concerned about their dwindling numbers, the Dann had stopped travelling. Broccan had all but ordered Lorcan to stay home and be a father to his daughter. To his credit, as Calbhach told it, Lorcan had done just that, and done it well. Brenna had been much loved by all of the surviving Dann and had grown into a very fine young woman. Any father would have been proud. There was even talk of marriage to Aigon, another riftrunner. Slowly, the Dann were rebuilding a life in this strange world.

Somehow, that had made it all the more tragic when the Guardians had taken her too.

The Doctor listened in agitated silence. In spite of the seriousness of their current mission, the Dann were a very small community. No more than a few hundred remained now. A newcomer, even a grim looking man who had misplaced his travelling companion, was a welcome diversion. Travelling never more than two abreast due to the narrowness of the rifts, each of them took turns telling different parts of the story. The Dann themselves were a proud people. And they were intelligent. On their home world space flight had been in its infancy, but it had begun. These people were literate and technical. They had scavenged whatever resources they had had between them at the time of the shift, and had managed to rebuild a society in an impressively short amount of time. They had a system of government that had evolved naturally, an odd cross between a democracy and a benevolent dictatorship that was headed by a council of surviving elders. A man named Uinshun told the Doctor of the cavern below the cliffs, where to this day the few transport vehicles which had not been cannibalized for parts to provide the essentials of life in the early times, remained hidden.

The Doctor noted that, and filed it away. He had been about to ask what they used for power when the scout had returned, gasping for breath in the deepening twilight.

They'd found Rose.

He ran.


	6. Chapter 6

Five

Rose had done her best to listen while Aigon explained the history of the Dann, his people. He chatted amiably while Lorcan prepared a simple meal for them under the blackout shelter in the deepening dusk. A thin but flavourful stew of some small dead animal and another sweet, dry biscuit had done much to ease the swimming in her head. They'd given her a cup of something hot and pungent, like coffee, only thicker. It relaxed her a little. She frowned in concentration, trying to remember what he was saying, something about a whole country picked up right out of it's place in the universe, but was having trouble concentrating. It reminded her of a fairy tale she'd heard as a child. Tir Nan Og. The words began to echo in her mind and run together as she watched Lorcan scrub out their few dishes with handfuls of coarse, dry sand before rinsing them with only the barest amount of water. Long before Aigon had finished his tale, the blackness overtook Rose, and she slept. She never even heard the scout reach the camp. He was there only a moment or two before he'd run back the way he came. Two men watched the darkness and Rose dreamed.

The exhausted men in his detail had fallen far behind the Doctor as he ran through the rifts, following the directions he'd demanded the instant the scout had returned. There were fewer rifts this far out into the perimeter, and fewer turns to remember than in the crisscrossing spider web of cracks closer to the settlement. The chasms here ran long and straight, thankfully, making navigation somewhat easier. He'd run straight along this narrow rift for close to three hours without stopping. Estimating the time it had taken the scout to reach them, at least another seven hours had passed since the scout had actually SEEN Rose, injured, but alive, in the company of the two riftrunners. He hadn't waited for a full report. It was well past midnight now. Dark. Nights were long here. About twelve hours by his estimation. Something about that struck him as unnatural. He kept moving. If not for his enhanced alien senses, the Doctor would have been blind. The rest of the search party would be far behind now, picking their way along in the blackness. He felt, as much as saw the walls of the cavern stretching up on either side of him. In spite of both the darkness and his haste, the Doctor moved almost silently, with the trained precision of a soldier behind enemy lines. That neither of the two men watching in the inky blackness was aware of his approach allowed him a moment to study the small tableau under the blackout shelter. Two men. One in his forties and rugged. Facing away from the Doctor, gazing up the rift in the direction opposite his approach. This would be Lorcan. The one who had lost first wife, then daughter to the creatures in the sky. That fit. A weight of more than just years showed in the slump of his shoulders. The younger man, then, was Aigon, his would be son in law. He stared into the blackness in the Doctor's direction. From his hiding place behind a rocky outcrop the Doctor could see past him to the small heap on the ground between them. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, forcing his body to a calm he didn't feel. He looked again.

Rose was breathing. His hearts loosened their grip on his throat just a little. He felt the beginnings of one of the rages that had been characteristic of this regeneration as he studied her there in the dark. He took in the deep bruises on her face and arms, and the blood matted in her hair and shook with fury imagining Rose had received the same welcome from these men that he had from the guard, Tristan. Broccan had told him that the older man was Tristan's cousin. Red haze clouded his vision for a moment, and the Doctor wondered, not for the first time, if this regeneration was entirely stable.

Rose stirred and he refocused his attention. She tossed and murmured something, and he assured himself that she was merely sleeping. Slowly the red cloud diminished.

"Doctor!" The hoarse cry from under the shelter shocked him like a slap.

She'd been dreaming about the fall. Her shoulders still burned from the effort of clinging to the cavern walls the day before. In her dream, she hung on still, calling for him to come and help her. Sudden commotion woke her. It was pitch dark. Feet scrabbling in the gravel. Rose struggled to remember where she was. Scuffling and grunting. Men were fighting. Three of them. She could feel them moving all around her. She sat up in the blackness.

"Don't make me kill you!" Carefully measured words from a familiar voice.

"Doctor?" She croaked again.

The frantic scuffling stopped.

"You're the Doctor?" The older man studied him. The Doctor ignored him.

"Alright then, Rose?"

He sat on his heels in front of her now, as the other two men stood back. Silently, Lorcan lit the small lantern, and hooded it. The dim light barely allowed them to make out each other's silhouettes, however, as the Doctor studied her face Rose had the distinct impression that he could see more than they could. Long, cool fingers traced lines of dirt, and bruises along her hairline. He sucked his teeth when his fingers settled on the bump on her head and she winced at the contact. One at a time he lifted her arms and examined them closely, smooth hands taking inventory of every abrasion. He carefully flexed her arms and fingers watching her face for any sign of pain that might indicate a serious injury.

"Yeah, sort of." She mumbled, still trying to shake off sleep. "I fell."

"Fell?" The Doctor let his gaze wander to the two men watching them in the shadows. "They didn't…hurt you then?"

Lorcan turned away uncomfortably, but Aigon met the stranger's eyes defiantly.

"Of course we didn't hurt her!" He spat. "She was like that when we found her! We damned near tripped over her!"

Lifting her chin so he could see into her eyes, the Doctor's raised eyebrows asked the silent question.

"S'true." She mumbled. "You know me…" She attempted a smile and winced at the answering throb from her bruised cheek.

"Jeopardy friendly." He shook his head and rolled his eyes, and stood to face the two men standing nearby. They stared back at him cooly.

"I'm Lorcan, this is Aigon. The scout will have told you that. You should take better care of your woman while you're in this place." The older man spoke softly. "There are very few of them left."

The lines around the man's eyes deepened into a frown as he regarded the Doctor, watching to see if his words had had an impact.

They did. Guilt clouded the stranger's expression as Aigon stepped forward with the canteen to kneel beside Rose. Guilt, and something else, as the younger man poured a small amount of water over his neck scarf and gave it to Rose to wash her face with.

"She's not my woman." The Doctor said, flatly. Irritated when the corners of the man's mouth twitched just a little. "And Rose Tyler can take care of herself!"

He rounded back to look at her.

"Even though she should bloody well have more sense than to wander off, alone, in a strange place, without so much as telling me she was going!" The stern glare was directed straight at Rose. Now that he was sure she wasn't seriously hurt, he had the sudden impulse to strangle her. Irritation replaced the panic that had gripped him for much of the last day. It was always like this with them.dddsq2qzxsssssssszszzzzz

The tension broke when the two men began to laugh. Even Rose smiled a little. The Doctor cocked an eyebrow and glared at them.

"That's one way of putting it! She damned near took my head off when we found her!"

Rose straightened proudly and shot the Doctor the best "So there!" look she could manage. Aigon draped an arm around her shoulder and she leaned against him for a moment as she scrubbed the damp bandanna over her gritty face in the watery light of pre dawn.

"Tell me what happened." He demanded stonily, glaring at Aigon as he crouched beside her, fiddling with some gadget from his pocket before cupping her chin, and shining a small bright light into each of her eyes. He continued to fuss around her until it had become clear that where he was sitting, Aigon was in the way of whatever it was to Doctor was doing.

Lorcan brewed more of the pungent bitter drink from a canister in his pack, while Rose outlined her misadventures. He smiled to himself at the sheer determination that had kept the young woman moving after her fall, even as he wondered at the foolishness that had brought her out into the desert, alone, in the first place. She was tiny by Dann standards, but what she lacked in size, she more than made up in strength. She would make a good desert woman. The more she spoke, the more she reminded him of his own lost daughter. A sliver of hurt ran through him as he noted that Aigon too, seemed to have found similarities. As he listened, however, another truth dawned on him. These strangers had been able to arrive here on their own. Presumably, they had the means to leave as well. Was it possible that after all these seasons, Daigh had finally sent them someone who could help them return home? He turned to watch them as he busied himself preparing a meager breakfast for them all.

Her companion, the Doctor, sat very near her.

On first glance, his posture appeared relaxed, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles as he leaned back on his arms. His face betrayed concern however, even as he made a point of not looking directly at the girl. Instead his head was bowed as he listened, and his eyes closed. His muscles were taught, though, like a cat waiting to spring. Studying him from this angle, Lorcan realized he could not begin to guess the man's age. Though he appeared to be similar in years to himself, there was something else to his features, a certain weariness that he'd only ever seen in the very old. It hung on the stranger like a veil, and parted only when he looked at his companion. Lorcan suspected he'd been a lot more frantic to find her than he had let on. He decided he would probably like this man.

Aigon had hovered close to Rose after the Doctor had arrived. At least until the two of them had become so wrapped up in exchanging stories that it had become awkward, standing there, completely shut out, so he'd busied himself striking their camp instead. He made rather a large show of noisily packing and repacking their gear. His initial impression of the Doctor was of a dangerously unstable man. He resented the suggestion that he or Lorcan could have harmed Rose deliberately. For that, he knew he had to excuse the man. He gathered from what he'd overheard that the Doctor had had the misfortune of meeting Tristan first. That was unfortunate. Lorcan's cousin was an angry, bully of a man, bent on using the fear of others to gather what power he could to himself. Though most of the Dann dismissed him as a harmless, if noisy eccentric, in recent months he had begun to gather followers, mostly frustrated young men he'd managed to convince of the council's inactivity on their behalf. If this man had met Tristan first, then it was a wonder he hadn't simply killed them both when he'd found them here. Still, looking for something to dislike he settled on carelessness. For someone who professed such deep concern for Rose's well being, he had certainly taken his time in looking for her. His attention was recalled to the pair of them as the Doctor had stood up suddenly, and turned away from her, leaning against the wall of the chasm with one hand braced over his head, his voice raised, and angry.

"One of these days I'm actually going to find a companion who understands what the words "Don't wander off!" actually mean!" He sounded like an angry father scolding a child who'd scared him half to death.

Unable to decide whether to be angry at the patronizing tone in his voice, or grateful for his concern, Rose stood awkwardly behind him, toeing at the dirt, but finally squared her shoulders and stood her ground.

"You'd have done the same thing!" She shot back at him. "You find trouble everywhere we go, and it's usually up to me to get us out of it!"

He wheeled around and advanced on her. Aigon's muscles tensed. He thought the Doctor looked as if he would strike her. The two of them faced off, staring angrily at each other. In spite of the difference in their sizes, the stubborn set of her jaw made Rose appear more than his equal. His owns suspicions about the Doctor's intentions left him feeling foolish a moment later, when stranger pulled Rose into his arms, rested his chin on the top of her head and closed his eyes. They stood like that for a long time. Clearly, there was a relationship between these two, but exactly what it was, he couldn't fathom. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen anything like it before. They stepped apart as the rest of the Doctor's party arrived from downrift.

There was commotion as packs were dropped, backs slapped and greetings exchanged. In spite of the circumstances, there was an air of celebration in the growing light. Life in the Outlands was hard, and changed little from day to day. The presence of the strangers was an event worth marking. The Doctor was chatting comfortably with all of them, examining items from their packs and discussing fuel cells with one of the older men. Rose pretended not to notice the frank curiosity in the faces of those around them. Without anyone saying anything, it was clear to both of them that these people were waiting for them to say or do something extraordinary.

"Well, Doctor?" Rose whispered, slipping up to stand just behind him. "What now?"

Above them, unseen, something circled lazily in the sky.


	7. Chapter 7

Six

As soon as he'd decided she would live, he'd hurried them through their packing, and they'd set out downrift again. As if he'd been a Riftrunner all his life, the Doctor set a brisk pace. It helped, of course, that he was as tall and lanky as they were. He kept up a steady stream of conversation with the scouts and guards around them, and barely seemed to notice that in order to keep up with her hand, which the Doctor had been gripping tightly since they'd set out, Rose was having to trot along at a steady jog.

They were heading back to The Settlement. The Doctor had told her in bits and pieces, what he knew about these people, and how they lived. Had sounded rather impressed actually. Between the two of them, they'd been able to piece together as much as anyone knew about how these people had come to be here in this place that wasn't a place. Judging from the set of his jaw the Doctor had no intention of leaving here now until he'd solved the mystery and saved the day. She smiled. Wouldn't have it any other way.

"So what's the plan?" She gasped out beside him, trying not to sound out of breath.

"What makes you think I have a plan?" He shot her a sideways look, and frowned a bit, noticing her struggling to keep up.

"The smell of cobwebs burning." She sniffed, doing her best to give him a knowing glance.

"I can always tell when you're thinking about saving the world. Burning cobweb smell gives you away every time." She grinned, and did her best to make it look easy to talk and jog at the same time.

"Alright." He began, giving her hand a familiar squeeze as she continued to trot along beside him. "The plan, as it were, is to find out where this "Citadel" is, who's running it, how they've nicked pieces of dozens, if not hundreds of worlds out of time and space, inhabitants and all, and what for, then put a stop to it and send everybody home safely. After that, I would like a really decent cup of tea. How's that?"

"Sounds simple enough. All in a day's work actually." She couldn't quite keep her voice from shaking as she struggled to match both his pace and his casual tone. "Any idea how we're going to do all that then?"

"Haven't the faintest."

He stopped suddenly, still holding her hand. Rose, not expecting the move, was effectively clothselined, as her feet kept moving, but her hand didn't. She was twisted around to one side, and landed face down in a graceless heap at the Doctor's feet. She scowled up at him as he released her hand so she could sit up. He raised his eyebrows as he looked down at her.

"Stop." He said helpfully, grinning down at her.

Rose could never tell when he got like this, whether he was acting out of concern for her, or some strange pleasure he got from harassing her. No matter, she hadn't died on his watch yet, in spite of what he would say were her best efforts.

He helped her to her feet, but only long enough to point to a slightly more comfortable looking spot in the shade, very near the wall of the rift.

"You. Rest," It wasn't exactly an order, more like a strong suggestion.

She sat, leaning her back against the rock that was rapidly warming, even here in the crevice. Without missing a beat, the Doctor took off his battered jacket, and wadded it into a ball behind her head, before wandering off to talk to the others, who'd finally noticed he'd called a halt. He cast a quick look at the sky before he left her. They were closer to the surface here than when they had started early this morning. No one said anything, but Rose had noticed that all of them, including the Doctor, glanced skyward with far greater frequency now.

She was certain she'd only closed her eyes for a second, but startled when Aigon spoke.

"Here, drink." He handed her a canteen.

Rose smile gratefully, then, deciding that a man who'd witnessed her hauled unconscious through a desert yesterday was unlikely to care now about her table manners, drank deeply. Finally refreshed, she held the cool container to her face for a moment.

"You should have said something." He watched her face as he sat on his heels in front of her.

"You're much smaller than our desert women are here. No one noticed you've been running to keep up with us. Doing an admirable job of it by the way."

"I carry my own weight." She managed.

"Still, I'm sure Lorcan would rather rest once in a while, or slow down a bit, then carry you all the way back to the settlement."

She reddened visibly at the thought.

"Another thing." He said seriously, removing the scarf from around his neck again. He soaked it in water, then draped it over her head.

"Oi! Watcher doing!" She squawked indignantly, as he folded the front half back from her face and tied it behind her head.

"Rose, anyone can see you aren't from a desert."

"How do you know?" She turned up her nose, beginning to feel just a mite defensive. Aigon took her hand and held out her arm, which had been bare since she'd stuffed her hoodie into one of the packs this morning. He pressed his finger against the back of her arm. The white fingerprint stood out in sharp relief against her pink skin.

"Desert people don't get sunburn like that."

It was true. Even in the relative shade of the rifts, her arms, and, she imagined her face, were glowing pink. She hadn't realized how much of the surface glare the rocks must have been reflecting downward.

"Besides." He said, smiling at her as he straightened the scarf to cover her neck and shoulders as well, "Doctor's orders. He says you don't take another step until you've rested, and covered up."

"He would." She snorted.

He patted her arm, then stood up to go rummage through their packs nearby. He returned with a cloth wrapped piece of something sticky and brown. It smelled sweet. He handed it to her.

"Eat. You'll feel better."

"Why is everyone treating me like a child?" Nothing got up Rose's nose like being patronized by a handsome young man. She briefly imagined Aigon with a trap door in his forehead, and it made her feel just slightly better.

"For starters, because you're the same size as one. It's a gut reaction I can't help. There aren't many women or children left among us, Rose. That makes you somewhat of a rarity." He ignored her apparent irritation and chatted as amiably as if they were discussing the football scores. "Besides," he went on, "It's not my doing anyhow. Doctor's orders." He flashed her a brilliant smile before walking away to join whatever discussion was happening just slightly downrift of them.

She glanced over to where he stood, talking with Lorcan. He caught her eye for a moment and raised one eyebrow at her. She stuck her tongue out, then leaned back against the jacket to rest, resolutely shoving a piece of the sticky dried fruit into her mouth and pretending to ignore him. With her eyes closed, she didn't see the shadow pass overhead.

"Rose!" His shout shook her out of a light doze.

She opened her eyes to see men scurrying to the edges of the rift. Packs were stashed, and in seconds, the entire center was left bare. Quickly and silently the men lay down flat in the junction between the floor and walls of the rift, many had pulled earth coloured blankets over themselves. There was absolute silence when the unearthly cry split the air as the shadow passed over them a second time. Rose struggled to grasp what was happening.

She'd heard that sound before, but where?

The next instant he was dragging her over sideways, pressing her into the floor of the rift, right against the wall. All she could see was the rock in front of her face as his weight slammed into her, knocking the breath out of her, as he covered her with his own body, and pulled his jacket over their heads.

"Doctor…" she whispered.

"Shhhh! Rose, not a sound!" His voice was right in her ear. She could feel him grinding his teeth as they huddled under the rocks, holding their breath and waiting.

She shivered as the shadow passed a third time. The raptor-like cry was ear splitting, and sounded very close. The Doctor swallowed hard, but didn't move. No one so much as twitched for an eternity.

The cry sounded once more, but not as close as it had been.

Still they waited.

After another long silence, finally, she felt him exhale.

He rolled onto his back and stared pointedly at the sky for a moment, before turning to see that she was alright. Satisfied, he leapt to his feet to go and speak urgently with Calbach and some of the others.

Rose spat out a mouthful of sand and sat up. All around them others were quietly standing to gather their hastily stashed provisions. While the immediate threat seemed to have moved on, the air of casual camaraderie had definitely gone. Everyone was tense. Judging from the urgency with which the men were repacking their gear, Rose guessed that rest time was over. Aigon appeared at her side, and helped her to her feet. They joined the circle of men standing around the Doctor.

"What you call Guardians," he was saying "the creatures from the skies. My people know them as Reapers. They appear whenever Time is damaged. Usually they act like antibodies, and clean the wound by consuming everything that's out of its timeline. But here…"

He wasn't really explaining anything now, Rose knew. He was thinking out loud with an audience. Still, judging by the shock showing on the faces of these men, what he was saying was news to them.

"But here," He continued, "Here, something is making them behave differently. They're hunting, but not killing, at least, not just killing. Why? What's different? Rose!" He looked right at her.

"What's different?"

Her mind worked. This was a game they played. He joked about them sharing a brain sometimes. What was different?

"We're not in any one timeline!" She knew she had hit on part of it.

"That's it!" He beamed.

"Clever Rose! We're not in a single timeline!" He looked around at the puzzled faces of the men watching their exchange.

"We aren't in a single timeline. The bits of all the worlds that are here aren't just from different places in space, but in time as well. Whoever is behind this is leaving little holes in time all over the universe! There must be things falling through all the time! Rose! I bet there's at least one piece of your planet here! Ever wondered about the Bermuda Triangle? All these bits of worlds leaving great gaping holes in time and space where they've been swiped from their nice cozy timelines. The Reapers don't know what to destroy because there isn't a single true timeline in the lot! It's like a patchwork, but it's changing all the time!"

"Alright Doctor." She said evenly, aware that all eyes were on them.

"So what do we do about it?"

He glanced once more at the sky. Then turned to address Lorcan.

"I think it's time we visited this Citadel."

High above them, unseen, the shadow circled again, then vanished into the sun.


	8. Chapter 8

Seven

For such a small community, they'd done an admirable job of creating a thriving, living nation down here below the surface. The Doctor had met with Broccan as soon as they'd returned to the Settlement.

Broccan had called a full council for the evening. In order for the Doctor to mount an expedition to the Citadel, the full cooperation of the Dann would be needed. Resources were precious and few. The community had a right to be a part of the decision to use them, even to their own benefit. Here in the Settlement, far below the top of the Rift, the atmosphere was more relaxed. The atmosphere of small town pervaded here, carved out in the rock. Some caves held small gardens, growing with the aid of some sort of electric light, others were homes, even a school. Still others seemed to be workshops, meeting rooms, common rooms and storage rooms. In some, it looked like an ongoing salvage operation was underway.

Bits of all manner of electronic things were spread amongst parts of vehicles, and heaps of scrap metal and radio parts. The Dann wasted nothing that couldn't either be used, or made into something else. He wondered were it had all come from. Even at a casual glance, it was obvious that some of it had been made since the "shift" had occurred. He had no reason to believe the Dann had any means of manufacturing new equipment, much less refining metal. Inwardly, he puzzled, but kept his expression bright, not wanting to stir up any more suspicion as to his identity and motives than had already been roused by Tristan and his gang of thugs. Based on the wary glances from some of the men in the workshops, the Doctor guessed Tristan had been working overtime to convince any who would listen that he and Rose were spies sent from the Citadel.

Rose was impressed with the city under the surface. There were more women here. Tall and wiry, just like the men, they were not what she would have considered pretty. Pretty was too delicate a word. Handsome, she decided. Not without beauty, certainly like the settlement itself. Olive skin and dark hair seemed the given characteristic of the Dann, both men and women. No wonder she stood out as such an oddity. As Rose understood it, women seldom left the Settlement. Too many of them had been taken by Reapers over the years, and either killed outright, or taken to the Citadel. The Dann would not risk losing any more. Rose did recall her basic biology from school and did the math. If these were all the women, then no matter how heroic their efforts may be, these people were facing extinction. It was a sad thought. In spite of the danger, life here seemed almost peaceful, if somehow more urgent than Rose was used to. All around her a community thrived. Some women wove a loose cotton fabric, working at looms clearly cobbled together from bits of whatever had been around. The fibre they worked apparently came from the squat prickly bushes that grew in the shady spots up above. Just gathering the course pulpy stalks was dangerous work. This was another function of the Riftrunners. Rose watched, fascinated, as one older woman spun a mat of loose fibers into long skeins of thread, while another worked a loom beside her. In the face of so much danger and adversity, life went on. It always did. She felt a respect for these people growing in her, even as she was aware that she was witnessing the slow, lingering death of a people.

It had been a bit awkward when they'd invited her to refresh herself in the women's baths. A small spring that sprang from the floor in one of the lower caves, invisible from all but the lower levels, and totally sheltered from the sky. The Doctor had been loathe to let her out of his sight, scowling darkly every time he caught sight of her bruised arms and face. One of the older women, Aisling, sensing the difficulty, had finally sent him to find her husband, Calbach, insisting that only he would know where to find fresh clothes and astringent for Rose. She chuckled as he stalked away, and caught Rose's questioning look.

"That should take care of him for a bit, my dear. Calbach has gone downrift to the closest relay point to send scouts out with messages about the council tonight. There are some families that live away from the Settlement. They should be here as well. He won't be back until evening. Does he always hover over you like that?" Aisling had kind eyes. They sparkled with good humour, and the sense of two women sharing secrets put Rose at ease.

"Only when he remembers I'm alive. And there's nothing more interesting happening. And sometimes after we've almost gotten killed. Otherwise, no." She smiled gratefully as the older women handed her a generous robe, towel and facecloth of the same coarse cotton she'd seen them weaving on the level above. It showed signs of use, but it was clean. The soap was pretty, purple, and delicately scented. Rose asked Aisling what it was made from.

"I don't know dear. No one does. It's one of the odds and ends that Lorcan has picked up in his travels at one of the Otherworld fall through spots. We never know what's going to come through or when. Sometimes it's people. Sometimes junk, sometimes an ocean. The Riftrunners scavenge what they can, when they can."

"Fall through spots." Rose mused, "Things falling through from other places. Bermuda Triangle. Like the Doctor said. I suppose what vanishes from one place must go somewhere. Are there a lot of them?"

"I don't know." The older woman said again. "I don't know how much the 'runners were able to explain. The landscape changes all the time. Not inside individual territories, but the way they sit next to each other. Like a child's game of sliding tiles. Where once we found a house and all it's contents to scavenge in a jungle, the next week may be a field of nothing but grass, with the fall through moved away or simply gone. As far as anyone knows, each new territory has it's own fall through. Ours is on the surface in the middle of the desert, over half a mile from the closest rift. You can see it from the spires if you're brave enough to be on the surface. It's how we keep going sometimes. Things from Dana, the real Dana, just appear in the desert from time to time. It gives us hope, knowing that somewhere, Home is still out there." Rose caught the wistful tone in the older woman's voice.

"How do you…"

The older woman cut her off gently, steering her toward the spring.

"Refresh yourself now, child. You've come a long way. Everyone will be eager to meet you tonight. There will be plenty of time for questions when the council is assembled. You and your Doctor are an important development for us Rose. You should rest while you can."

Aisling busied herself nearby, finding a fresh shirt and proper headscarf for Rose, while Rose slipped into the cool spring and pulled her hair loose. Actually, these people were quite civilized, she thought, as she drew in a deep breath, and ducked under the water.

In spite of himself, the Doctor smiled a little. You didn't get to be over nine hundred years old without recognizing a wild goose chase when you were set on one. Still, he took the hint. In spite of his lingering guilt over having failed, once again, to watch over Rose, she appeared to be in good hands. Women did not change overmuch across the universe. Aisling would take care of her for a while, listening at the entrance for a few minutes had assured him of that. He had noted with slight irritation that the Dann had all been aware of the existence of the "fall throughs" and yet no one had mentioned them to him. He wondered what else the Dann were keeping from him. He set out in search of Broccan, and, hopefully, answers.

He caught movement from the corner of his eye, and watched with interest as a tiny lizard, no longer than his finger started on the ledge it had been watching him from. It coughed a tiny spark, then vanished into a crack in the wall. The lingering smell was similar to sulfur. Would be mistaken for sulfur by anyone who'd never encountered Terranium.

There it was again, that feeling of déjà vu.

He'd arrived in the grand chamber early, with the council, and watched while the hall had gradually filled up. A murmur that began near the main entry and spread through the room caught his attention. Rose had entered, laughing, accompanied by the woman he recognized as Aisling, and several children of different ages. They were peppering her with questions, and Rose was laughing as she patiently answered as many as she could. She had changed into the native dress of the Dann women for the evening. The Doctor was pleased to note that it offered better protection from both sun and heat than the jeans and tank top she'd been wearing when they arrived. It included an almost knee length tunic of pale cotton, over matching loose fitting trousers, and a matching scarf, covering her hair, and framing her face. From the colour, the Doctor guessed that the Dann had used the fine pink sand of the desert to colour the fabric. While looking much improved for having cleaned up, the pale fabric threw purple bruises on fair skin into sharp relief. Surrounded by these people, Rose did indeed seem pale and tiny by comparison. It was no wonder Aigon thought of her as frail. She was anything but, he knew, but he could see how these people might have that impression.

They'd never seen her stand toe to toe with a Dalek.

Aigon was likely to figure out the hard way that Rose Tyler could look after herself. He grinned at the thought. The story of her remarkable trip across the desert had spread through the afternoon, and the children, some not much smaller in stature than she was, were eager to hear it told by Rose herself. There were groans of protest when Aigon appeared at her side to escort her up to the dais, before reluctantly joining Lorcan and the other Riftrunners at their own table.

The council meeting was a grand affair. The entire Dann population, down to the last child, seemed to be filling the council chamber. Long tables made of an assortment of different materials were arranged in long rows throughout, with the council of elders seated on a raised dais at one end of the hall. Space had been made on the dais for the Doctor and Rose. Positions of honour, he supposed, to the right of Broccan.

The rest of the room reminded the Doctor of the feasts he'd attended on Earth in Elizabethan times. The Riftrunners were seated in a group, as a King's guard might have been. The rest of the room had arranged themselves in family groups and households. The notable difference here was that there were no servants. Members of each household took turns serving food, and clearing dishes. All the members. Everyone did his or her share here. If there was a class system, he couldn't discern it. Everyone had a purpose. He smiled wryly. George Orwell would have been fascinated. They'd discussed the nature of civilization many times over drinks.

Broccan nodded to him as he pulled out a chair for Rose to sit. She smiled winningly, clearly enjoying a more civilized atmosphere after two days trudging through the desert. The older man himself poured their drinks. A cool sweet liquid of some sort of fermented fruit, he guessed. Dishes were passed hand to hand and everyone served himself. As people settled in to their meals, gradually the small talk and gossip subsided. Sensing the change in the atmosphere, the Doctor regarded the other men seated at the council table, making eye contact with each in turn.

While Rose was resting, he had sought them out to discuss his theories on what had happened to bring all these worlds together, and what, if anything, could be done about it. If he were going to be able to help, the Doctor would need to get to the Citadel, and fairly quickly. He would need men, equipment and transportation. All of which were highly valued resources, and irreplaceable should anything go wrong.

The community would have to agree to take the risk together. Failure, under any other circumstances, would mean the end of the Dann civilization here in this place. In these harsh conditions it was unlikely that a factionalized Dann could continue to survive. Even if he could find a way to reverse whatever had been done to bring them here, there was no guarantee that it would be perfect. There was still a great risk, and these people had lost so much already. Worse, the Doctor suspected the scenario had been repeated many hundreds of times over, with pieces of different worlds being added to the puzzle all the time.

Wordlessly, Broccan and the rest of the council stood. The assembled Dann turned their attention to the dais and waited silently, expectation clearly written on every face. The Doctor had managed to convince the council that his suspicions were correct. The presence of Terranium in the rock here had proved that. That was what was being mined at the Citadel, he was certain. Now they had to convince the Dann.

Broccan spoke first.

"My friends, for over forty seasons, the Dann have struggled to survive here in this place. Each of you has lost loved ones to this place, either to the desert, or to the ones who watch from the skies. We have all lived every night wondering if our friends and family yet survive in the mines, with more taken every season. Each of you has carried the burden of responsibility for our continued survival here with courage."

As he looked at the assembled faces, the man's eyes shone with genuine affection and the kind of pride a father might have looking at his assembled progeny. The Doctor was certain this man knew the name and birthdate of every man, woman and child assembled here, and likely the names of their missing loved ones.

He waited as Broccan continued.

"We cannot, however, continue to thrive in this place. We are too few now as it is, and we are fewer each year. Almost since we arrived in this place we knew that if we could not return home, the Dann in this world would face inevitable extinction. We are here, my dear friends, because we have a new hope. Our esteemed guest, the Doctor, believes it may be possible to return the Dann to Dana. The risk is great. The choice must be yours as well as the Council's. Men and equipment will likely be lost. The alternative, however, I believe is a far bleaker and far more definite outcome. If we continue where we are, as we are, the Dann will perish. Doctor?"

The Doctor stood to address the assembled Dann. He was about to ask them to trust him; someone they'd known for all of three days, with the few able bodied young men they had left. Also all of the remaining working vehicles, and some of their most valuable finds from the fall through sites in order to mount an offensive on the Citadel. At the same time he would have to admit that while he was beginning to suspect at least the what and how of what was holding this place together, he had no idea as to who was behind it, or why, and no concrete plan for how to fix it. This was his life. He knew. If not this, than what other purpose did a Time Lord who'd outlived his own timeline have besides saving the world. Helping those who had fallen afoul of Time through no fault of their own. The thought of someone preying on these, and who knew how many other innocent people from across time and space galvanized him. He reached beside him, and gave Rose's hand a quick squeeze. He turned to address the faces, all of which were turned towards him. All of which reflected the same hope.

All but one.

His eyes skimmed over Tristan's face as the big man moved swiftly from the entrance toward the dais. The Doctor registered the ugly curl of the man's lip at the same moment as he saw the weapon raised and leveled at him. In a second he had pushed Rose backward in her chair and caught Broccan in a tackle as he yelled for the other assembled council members to get down. The Riftrunners were on their feet already, but the cavern that served as the council chamber was massive. Tristan advanced on the dais. The weapon flashed several times. The crowd erupted into chaos, and, not waiting to see whom he had hit, Tristan turned, and bolted for the door, the Riftrunners charging after him.

On the dais, behind the now overturned table, one man lay very still.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Eight

With chaos whirling all around her, Rose held Calbhach's head, cradled in her lap. The room had become a circus of disarray, and from her vantage point on the floor behind the table, only Rose had seen the shots find a mark in the older man, one in his shoulder, and another in his chest. He had been standing beside her, about to refill her glass with the sweet spicy wine the Dann had found a way to make from the prickly bushes that grew above. A second earlier, the Doctor had been standing between them both, addressing the assembled Dann as he paced around the dais. 

Rose looked down at the older man now. Husband to Aisling. His breathing was ragged, but steady. His eyes closed. Recalling her first aid training from summer camp a lifetime ago, Rose pulled her headscarf away, folded it into a tight square. Pressing it firmly to the older man's chest, in hope of staunching the flow of blood that was spreading out from the tiny wound with every laboured breath she forced herself to focus on the task at hand. Unaware of the blood soaking into her own tunic from the wound in his shoulder, she held the pressure steady. In spite of trembling hands, she tried to keep the dying man very still, and did her best not to recall the face of the last man who had died, cradled in her lap in a similar manner.

She had no idea how long she sat like that.

Aisling was crouched beside her now, stroking her husband's cheek with one hand. With the other, she gently lifted Rose's hands away from the wound on his chest. Her face was soft, but her eyes were dry. Another low pitched sound recalled Rose to the here and now. Looking up, she saw the Doctor crouched over the man in front of her. His eyes were focused on his hands, as he held the sonic screwdriver steady. At last, he snapped it off, and lifted his eyes to meet Aisling's.

"He'll live." He said softly, gently cupping the older woman's face. "Keep him out of trouble for a while, though."

"Thank you." She whispered, and then nodded to the two men standing nearby. Gently, they lifted Calbhach onto a coarse, dirt coloured blanket, then carried him out, escorted by Aisling and several of the older women.

Finally, the Doctor turned his attention to Rose. She continued to kneel silently on the floor. Except for the bruising, all the colour had drained out of her face, which remained fixed on the spot where the injured man had been. With all the stresses of the past two days, the injuries from the fall, the lack of sleep and now this, he was less than surprised when the vital signs reading from the sonic screwdriver told him she was on the verge of going into shock. He breathed a small sigh of relief, however, when it also confirmed that the blood that was soaking the front of her garment wasn't her own. He took off his jacket and helped her into it, noting as he did that she was beginning to shiver, likely a combination of shock, and her sunburn from the day traveling in the rifts. 

"All right then, Rose?" He said softly, crouching in front of her.

"That man, Calbhach. Aisling's husband…" Rose began.

"Will be fine." The Doctor finished, fiddling with the sonic screwdriver before holding it up in front of her.

"Oh. Good." Rose said, her eyes rolling back as she fell the rest of the way to the floor. 

The Doctor snapped the sonic screwdriver off, then pocketed it before anyone else could realize what he'd done. She'd kill him herself if she ever found out. Rose would sleep now, until it was time for them to leave. She would need the rest, he knew for the pace he intended to set for the trip ahead. As if she weighed nothing, he gently gathered her up in his arms, and turned to Broccan to ask where they could go for a few hours, her to rest, and him to plan.

"Doctor!"

Aigon, Lorcan and a handful of other Riftrunners stormed back into the room. Aigon stood before them, hands on his knees, gasping for breath as Bruccan handed him a cup of water and waited for him to report.

"He's gone!" Aigon gasped. "So are the others. About a dozen in all. They had ropes in place and went right up and onto the surface, then cut them before we could follow. Oh Daigh!" He stared in horror at Rose's limp, bloody form in the Doctor's arms.

"I'm sorry." Lorcan said, softly, placing a gentle hand on Rose's face before meeting the Doctor's eyes. "We tried."

"It's alright." The Doctor kept his voice even, not wanting to wake Rose. "She's only sleeping. The blood isn't hers."

"They shot Calbhach." Broccan explained flatly, clearly still stunned that any of the Dann could turn so completely on another. "Thanks to the Doctor and young Rose, he will live. Aisling is with him."

Aigon spoke up. "Even if we ran straight for the nearest stair, by the time we reached this spot on the surface, it would be daylight. We can't afford to send men to their deaths. Wherever he's going, odds are, Tristan will get there before we can stop him now."

"It was me he was shooting at." The Doctor said, stonily.

"It will be light soon, and they can't travel on the surface in daylight." The Doctor turned to Broccan. "I'm sorry, but the time for a vote has passed. We have to assume that Tristan and his followers are up to no good. I'm betting they're heading for the Citadel. Whatever's going on up there, I'll reckon Tristan knows more about it than you thought." He directed his gaze over the crowd. "And that means that whoever's running that Citadel knows plenty about you as well, which will mean that no one is safe here anymore."

Broccan set his jaw, and then turned to speak to the Riftrunners who had assembled around them. "Take all of the women and children home. They must pack, rest while they can, and be ready to travel in the rifts in four hours time. Make for the cliff wall. The rifts are deep near the caves. Get everyone as close to the caverns as you can."

He turned to meet the eyes of the big red haired man who stood closest to him.

"Divide them into three groups. Assign a detail of Riftrunners to each. That way even if one group is discovered before you reach the caverns, all is not lost. Break up the families. We can't afford to lose an entire bloodline in the event that one group is attacked"

Lorcan nodded, then spoke to the other Riftrunners for a moment. At once they began to disperse, herding the confused Dann into family groups, and then dividing them again for travel, ensuring that no one family would be all in the same group, before sending them home to pack what little they would carry.

"I would guess you will want to travel with the advance party, Doctor." Bruccan could see that the Doctor was eager to reach the caverns. "They'll travel very light, and leave sooner, but they should reach the caverns well in advance of the others. The most direct route takes them close to the surface, though. If you like, I can arrange for Rose to travel with Aisling and Calbhach. She'll be well taken care of."

The Doctor shifted her weight in his arms, and looked down at her, exhausted, and finally asleep in his arms. His hearts lurched for a moment, seeing how fragile and how very young she looked, now that there was none of the trademark "Rose" bravado holding her up. He swallowed hard, and pushed all such thoughts aside for now, except to say firmly.

"Rose stays with me."

Broccan knew better than to argue with that look. 

"Very well, Doctor. You may as well use Tristan's quarters for what time we have left here. Lorcan will show you the way." The Rift runner stepped forward with a brisk nod to Broccan and gestured for the Doctor to follow before turning on his heel and leaving the hall.

Settled in Tristan's room, having made Rose as comfortable as possible on Tristan's bunk after sending Lorcan on his way, the Doctor made himself busy examining the room. If she asked, later, who had bathed and changed her, trading her blood-soaked summer garment for her own travel worn jeans and tank once more, he would tell her it had been the women. Their current situation left little time for "domestics", but the truth was he had no intention of letting her out of his sight again until they were back in the TARDIS. The image of her on a viewscreen, seconds before he'd believed her murdered by a Dalek was forever etched in his mind. Rushing back to the dais to see her crouching over Calbach and soaked in blood, he felt as though he'd been turned to stone. He'd lost companions before, true, and mourned each of them, but somehow, now, with his entire planet gone, somehow his relationship with Rose was different. He'd never NEEDED a companion before. 

He shook his head and set about examining Tristan's room. He was both angered and impressed by the array of technological "bits" found all over the room, though he doubted Tristan had understood the purpose of all of the pieces. Clearly someone else had been guiding him as to what pieces to collect. He hummed quietly to himself as he worked with the sonic screwdriver, fusing beyond repair the weapon that Tristan had almost finished constructing before focusing his energy on the search for the communication device that he knew must be present somewhere. 

The communicator was no bigger than the sonic screwdriver, and after ensuring that it was not currently active, he pocketed it, knowing it might come in handy later. He was merely amusing himself, waiting for Rose to wake up when he found the beacon. 

This he crushed under his heel immediately, even knowing that it would be too late. Whoever had been hunting the Dann would already know exactly where to find them. He ran out into the hallway and alerted the Riftrunner guarding the corridor to get a message to Broccan and all the other Riftrunners. 

Ready or not, they had to leave this place.

Now.

He looked at his watch. 

Tristan had been gone for over two hours now, and had been at the gathering for at least two as well. That meant that the beacon had been broadcasting for at least four hours. Plenty of time for an enemy to nail down their location.

"Rose." He spoke gently, not wanting to startle her. He was relieved when her eyes fluttered open even as her hand scrabbled for something to hit him with. He grinned even as he scanned her vital signs using the hand she wasn't watching. 

"Up you get then!" He said cheerfully, snapping the sonic screwdriver off again before she could focus enough to notice it, and helping her to sit up, watching for signs of dizziness or shock.

"Sleep all day you would, if I let you." He handed her a canteen.

She frowned and met his eyes, her head still spinning a bit. He reached out to pat her cheek, noting that her colour was returning. Remarkably resilient, these little apes. This one, in particular, always amazed him with her ability to bounce back from seemingly anything.

"Drink up now, and eat this, you'll need your strength" He said softly, handing her the packet of dried fruit and bread he had sent for earlier.

"Savin' the world again then, are we?" She drank quickly, and downed two of the soft sticky morsels from the packet, frowning as she noted that someone had changed her clothes. She arched an eyebrow at the Doctor, who said nothing, but reached around her reclaiming his own jacket as he did so, to fasten a belt around her waist. He picked the knife up off the table and handed it to her, handle first.

"Wossat?" She asked with her mouth full. Feeling almost herself again, she stashed the rest of the little packet into the backpack the Doctor was assembling, then reached out to examine the blade he held.

"Fits the sheath on your belt." He hated weapons. Abhorred them. But even he had to admit that he didn't know for certain that he would be able to protect her from everything. He held her shoulders and forced her to meet his eyes for a second.

"Be ready for anything." His intensity made her frown.

Whatever passed between them in that moment, it was dispelled by the din in the corridor outside their room. The Dann were moving.

"Time to go." He said grimly, shouldering the pack and taking her hand before turning toward the door.

Immediately they were swept up in the tide of moving bodies. The Dann all tolled, numbered only a few hundred. Nevertheless, all of them moving in the same direction through this narrow crevice, they created a current of bodies was a force to be reckoned with. Gradually each group separated itself from the mass as rifts began to branch off in all directions. At last, only a handful of Riftrunners, the Doctor and Rose remained. 

Lorcan called a halt and began to assign positions to each runner, setting them up as an escort for The Doctor and Rose, as well as reconnaissance.

"This is it." Aigon came to stand next to them. "The path ahead is almost a straight line to the caverns. It's shallow though. Even the 'Runners don't usually use it during daylight hours." He turned to Rose. "It's going to be a hard and dangerous hike, Rose, and there won't be much time for rest. There are places where the rift will offer very little protection from the surface and the sky. I could send an escort with you to join one of the other parties." 

Rose was beginning to discover just how much she resented being treated like a child.

"No thanks." Her chin jutted out just slightly as she picked up one of the discarded packs, and tried not to stumble under its weight as she stormed away. 

Aigon eyed the Doctor stonily. "I suppose you think you can take better care of her this time?"

"Oi! It's me looks after him for the record!" The voice like ice from the front of the line let them know that she wasn't yet beyond earshot as the party began to move once more. The Doctor grinned and hurried to join Rose before the young Riftrunner could voice any further objection. Their path continued almost straight ahead, and the slope upward was noticeably steep, bringing them to within only a few metres of the surface in a short time. Already the heat reflecting down from the desert above was beginning to make itself known. Without seeming to look, the Doctor noticed Rose was beginning to struggle under the weight of a pack intended for someone twice her size.

Once Aigon had moved to his position, the Doctor, without breaking stride, he lifted the heavy pack off her back with one hand, and shouldered it, along with his own. Not being from Earth had its advantages. Among said advantages were solid bones as opposed to hollow ones, and considerably greater strength. Both were the result of much time spent on larger worlds with stronger gravity than hers.

"Better?" He asked, not daring to look at her.

"Yep." She kept walking.

. 


End file.
